You open it —and there’s another.And another.And another.On it goes.Layer after layer after layer.Like life.Like you.You think you know yourself.You think you’ve seen it all.But there’s more.Always more.You are not finished.Not even close.Because you’re not just one...
The wild swan doesn’t explain itself.It just moves—quiet,strong,free.In old Celtic stories,swans show up as something more.Not just birds,but signs.Of something deeper.Something sacred.They glide between worlds.Seen and unseen.Spirit and body.Now and not-yet.The Celts...
It doesn’t knock. It doesn’t ask. It just slips through the cracks. A smell, a song, a street corner, and suddenly — you’re there again. The world tells you: move on, fix it, let it go. But memory isn’t broken. And neither are you. Some things aren’t meant to...
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